


Locked Out Of Heaven

by undead_science



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Avatar Danny Stoker, Hurt, Mannequin Danny Stoker, Nikola Orsinov is oddly comforting, Stranger Avatar Danny Stoker, The Circus - Freeform, but in a manipulative way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:08:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28147359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undead_science/pseuds/undead_science
Summary: Danny didn’t remember much of how it happened. But he knew how it felt. The blades, the peelers. The pulling.Oh, god, the pulling..But when he woke up, he didn’t feel at all.And he wasn’t himself.
Kudos: 7





	Locked Out Of Heaven

‘Hurt hurt pain stop no please why god no-‘

Danny’s thoughts weren’t very detailed, but nobody could blame him for that.  
While he couldn’t tell what exactly was happening to him, he knew two things for certain.  
1\. It hurt. A lot.  
2\. It wasn’t good.  
An argument can be made that anything that hurt wasn’t good, but he was thinking of a more grand sense of Not Good.  
It was like it wasn’t just bad for him, but for everyone else.  
Who was everyone else?  
He didn’t know if he wanted to know. 

When he finally came back to himself, he couldn’t feel.  
That wasn’t to say he wasn’t in pain-

Well, he wasn’t, but.

It was more than that.

He should have felt the clothes against his skin- and if there wasn’t any, he should have felt whatever he was laying on- because he was definitely laying down.  
He should have felt his hair on his face, and his tongue in his mouth, and his eyes as they rolled, scanning the room he was in.

But he didn’t feel any of it.

And he wasn’t scared of it.

It felt good, the not feeling. The horrible, horrible sense of not being himself. Of being something else.

That scared Danny more than anything. 

He tried to get up- and when he did, it was like a puppet being picked up by it’s strings. He slid to a sitting position, and the way his limbs bent to stand was horrifyingly smooth. 

There, he saw, on the wall. A mirror. 

Dare he look?

‘No,’ he thought. ‘No, I can’t be afraid to look. If I’m afraid to look, it’s basically admitting that I don’t care what I actually am.”

He didn’t want to lie to himself any longer.

So he looked.

He heard the sound of plastic slapping against hard the hard wooden floor, and distantly realized it was him. He was the plastic that his the floor. 

Danny was frozen in utter horror for what felt like eternity, before a small smile appeared onto his face. But the moment he caught himself in the odd thrill of his reflection, he let out a sob.  
It was dry.  
He couldn’t cry, he realized.  
Oh, but he could try.


End file.
